


be the serpent under 't

by FreshBrains



Series: Femslashficlets Mini Fics [14]
Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV)
Genre: Community: femslashficlets, During Canon, Episode: s01e10 Night, F/F, Fantasizing, POV June, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 22:19:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11907360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: June imagines blood on the sheets.





	be the serpent under 't

**Author's Note:**

> For the DW Femslashficlet's Remainder week #120/Prompt #112 - bed.

June imagines blood on the sheets.

Blood on the sheets used to be tongue-in-cheek, sly, vulgar— _yeah, she’s definitely not a virgin anymore_. But now, it can only mean two things—a bad birth or no birth at all. A tragedy and a death knell all at once. And at this point, neither is preferable to the other.

She used to imagine blood on the intricate patterns of the Commander and Serena Joy’s bedding—red smears meeting the black and white whorls of the duvet. The colors of fascism. She’d jerk a knee or throw an elbow, split his lip “on accident,” knock her nose hard enough to send a spray of red arcing across all three bodies.

Now, when she thinks of blood, it’s smeared across her fingers and bedding into her cuticles as she wraps her hands around Serena Joy’s throat and _squeezes_.

The thought used to come to her unbidden, almost comically—Serena Joy naked and draped across the bed, hair mussed, blood vessels popping in her eyes as June takes her pleasure. To see Mrs. Waterford undone, debased, in her barest state—June would kill for it, just a _glimpse_.

It would be a Ceremony of a different kind.

This was when life at the Waterford residence was monotonous in its torture, routine in its evils. This was when June allowed herself to imagine, to concoct some horror movie revenge fantasy— _now I’m the Final Girl and Serena Joy is the blonde idiot who loses her head the second she gets her tits out_. This was when the return to the old ways still loomed on the horizon and June could taste it in the sharp-nailed squeeze of Serena Joy’s hands around her wrists.

But now? Now that she has seen Hannah with her own two eyes and has been denied the smell of her hair, the baby-softness of her skin? Now, June doesn’t want some grindhouse reel, some grainy footage of her and Serena Joy neck-and-neck, side-by-side.

Now, she wants blood. She wants to straddle Serena Joy on the bed and kill her. There are no fantasies. There is no history. There is only what comes next.

June stands in the master bedroom doorway, head low, hands clasped in front of her. She dares to glance up and sees Serena Joy sitting primly at the edge of the bed, fussing with another one of her little projects for the baby. She has one leg curled beneath her body, revealing the slope of her leg. _Keep both feet on the floor at all times_ , a voice comes to June. Maybe an Aunt, but probably something from way before that.

“Offred? Is something wrong?” Serena Joy is tight-lipped and void of warmth, but the arch of her brow betrays her concern. June is not just Offred anymore, she’s Offred-plus-baby.

It would take three steps. June knows she could do it. Three steps. She’d bear her down on the bed like Jacob on Bilhah and take, take, _take_.

“No, Mrs. Waterford,” June says, turning in the hallway, voice catching in her throat. Her clit throbs quickly beneath her dress—not even sexual in the traditional sense, but _relieving_ , like letting go after holding on so tightly for a long time. The sudden surge of delicious pressure between her legs is alarming, a bittersweet ache. She takes the stairs up to her room, breath coming in hard waves.

_This is a beginning_ , she thinks, opening the closet door. _This is when fantasy becomes reality._

She lets down her hair, takes off her boots, and finally allows herself to smile.


End file.
